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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409946">Terms of Service</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsitta/pseuds/Catsitta'>Catsitta</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Just Business [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Mobfell (Undertale), Bara Sans (Undertale), Complicated Relationships, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Mobfell Sans (Undertale), Power Imbalance, Prejudice Against Monsters (Undertale), Red is a Mobster, Red is a Sugar Daddy, Red is bara, Romance, Sans (Undertale) Has Issues, Sans Has Trust Issues (Undertale), Sans is a Mess (Undertale), Sans is smol, Sugar Daddy, Suggestive Themes, kustard - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:20:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,513</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsitta/pseuds/Catsitta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s already sold his body to the devil. Why not his soul? It’s all about the money and love’s got nothing to do with it.</p><p>Mob Kustard | Slowburn | Romance</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sans/Sans (Undertale)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Just Business [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079678</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>177</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Terms of Service</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <b>STOP, THIS FIC IS A SEQUEL, THERE ARE REFERENCES IN THIS THAT WILL NOT MAKE AS MUCH SENSE WITHOUT READING THE PREVIOUS ONESHOT.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>I didn't have any story planned initially following my oneshot 'Just Business'. It was meant to be delightfully ambiguous as to whether or not either character would get their happy ending or a broken heart. That said, for those of you who wanted more...congrats, muse works in mysterious ways. Once more I have nothing further planned, but who knows what the future will bring? Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“yer head’s been in the clouds all evenin’, dollface. feelin’ alright?”</p><p>Sans blinked up as Red slid into the seat beside him and closed the car door. He fought back the urge to grimace at his own behavior, because Red was right, he had been distracted all through their <i>date</i>. Normally he would have been leaning into every word as his companion for the evening regaled him with amusing stories from work, or heaped needless praises about how good Sans looked in the outfit Red bought him. It was a familiar song and dance, one he should have been able to do in his sleep, but alas, he misstepped, caught out of tempo by the stress of shitty luck and his own fumbling.</p><p>Losing his job watching security cameras because he fell asleep (again) was his fault. Sans could blame nobody but himself. But keeping his sockets open proved impossible after clocking extra hours at Grillbys. They didn’t care that some jerk stole his little brother’s uniform from his locker during gym, which meant forking over the cash for a new set, shoes and all. </p><p>However, what was totally out of his control was what happened at Grillbys during his next shift. He had already redone his budget, pinched pennies until every cent had a purpose, when someone decided that throwing bricks through the front windows wasn’t enough. So they drove a freaking car through them. There were luckily no deaths, and only minor injuries to the patrons having lunch, but with a massive hole in the wall, Grillby had no choice but to close the bar temporarily for repairs. The normally <i>cool</i>-headed fire elemental raged in front of his ruined storefront, cursing the monster-hating humans that did it, and the cops that would probably never look too hard into the case. </p><p>There was a reason why Ebott had a not-so-secret monster mafia. It wasn’t because life was all peaches and daisies for monsters trying to eek out a living in the city. Sans would have picked up Papyrus and moved long ago if it wasn’t for the fact that Ebott was one of the safest and least discriminatory places for monsters, likely due to their significant population. </p><p>All that said, losing two income sources in a week utterly gutted his budget. He would need to find new employment, fast, but it was unlikely he’d find a place that paid as well as Grillby’s. He wasn’t lying when he told Red that working there was a pretty sweet gig. With it being a monster owned business, the pay was more than fair, and he made good money on tips. Working as a waiter at a human bar likely wouldn’t afford him half of what he made before.</p><p>“there yer go, lost in yer thoughts again,” Red murmured, brushing Sans’ cheekbone with his thumb before leaning in close for a kiss. It was sweet and gentle. Which was worrisome. They were supposed to go back to Red’s place tonight, and there was a distinct lack of amorous, roving hands. “i can drop yer off at home if tonight’s not a good night.” Awe hell. He needed the extra cash. That was why he let Papyrus have a sleepover with his friend Undyne. He could spend the night with Red, bank the tip, and pay rent another month without dipping into his savings. If he lost any more income this month, he’d likely have to look Papyrus in the eyelights and tell him that the camp wasn’t going to happen this year, even after he promised him. Sans never broke promises to Paps. Never. </p><p>Steeled with a fresh wave of determination, Sans toyed with Red’s tie and made sure to tug on it extra hard once he got the other’s attention. That made those hellfire eyelights go hazy and brought a stupid grin to Red’s face. Good. “maybe i’m just bored,” Sans murmured, feigning a spoiled huff. “i write you down in my schedule for the whole evening, and we spend most of it at a fancy restaurant where i can’t pronounce half the menu items.” Red chuckled, looping an arm around Sans and practically dragging him onto his lap. Better. This was progress in the right direction. Even though he was generally paid to smile and look pretty on Red’s arm, he learned early on that his companion didn’t mind the occasional bout of sass or banter, even finding his more outspoken moments endearing.</p><p>Sans unbuttoned Red’s vest and focused on keeping them both in the mood. No more space case. He couldn’t have Red lose interest. He needed this to happen. <i>Think about the money,</i> was his ever present mantra. Think about how happy Papyrus will be when he gets to go to a summer camp for the first time ever. </p><p>“eheh, somebody’s frisky.”</p><p>He shuddered at Red’s husky voice, roughened to perfection by desire. Sure, his LV made Sans’ non-existent skin crawl, but he was well-practiced at ignoring it. Same as how he was good at ignoring the bulge of a gun holster against his ribs as they kissed, and the acrid smell of smoke clinging to the other’s clothes and breath. A facade of ignorance made their dalliances all the more easy to excuse. Red never said a word about the true nature of his work, and Sans pretended the darker undertones didn’t exist. It was easier to focus on the fantasy. That Red was a lonely businessman with more money than time for a real relationship, and Sans happened to be his type.</p><p>Hands slipped under his shirt to fondle his ribs. He settled himself on Red’s lap, trusting the chauffeur not to make any sudden stops and send him tumbling to the floor. </p><p>“woah, what’s gotten into yer?” Red teased, practically purring as he dragged Sans down for another long and lazy make out session. “yer hate foolin’ around in the car. here ya are tryin’ to get into my pants like—” He faltered, the delighted haze fading from his expression. He was thinking. Sans wasn’t doing his job right if Red was able to stop and think. Swooping in to shut him up, he was startled when Red turned his head away. The larger skeleton fidgeted and slowly slid his hands to rest in a more platonic fashion on Sans’ hips. “—like yer after a big tip.” Why was he stopping? </p><p>“m’after a big <i>tip</i> alright,” Sans quipped with as much lasciviousness as he could muster. He wasn’t used to seducing anyone, especially Red, who usually had to be told to back off rather than to hurry things up. “i thought you wanted me to show more initiative <i>babe</i>.” Burning eyelights hardened with what could only be described as hurt, he could read the other like a well-worn book, it was his job after all to be attentive to what Red wanted during their time together. Suddenly, he was plucked off Red’s lap and buckled to the seat like a misbehaving child. “huh? what the hell?”</p><p>The glower he received in response silenced further protest. He messed up. Oh stars. He messed up. Sans needed this. He needed the money. What if Red decided he was tired of Sans and canceled their future dates? Numbers whirled by and he choked on them. Forget camp, how would he afford rent? They lived someplace a little nicer—safe and without constant break ins and vandalism—because Sans could afford it on three jobs and Red’s generosity. His modest emergency fund was turning to smoke and terror as hot as molten iron lodged itself into his soul. They were out! They’d finally crawled out of the depths of poverty after their dad died and their lives went to hell. He sold himself—his time and body—for what? A little over a year of true financial security? </p><p>“easy, dollface, easy. iz alright. stay wit me, that’s right. easy. breathe for me, sweetheart.”</p><p>Sans screwed his sockets shut and buried his face in Red’s chest, humiliated by his own lapse in composure. Freezing up and shaking like a wet leaf in a windstorm was not an image he wanted anyone to see, much less Red, who paid him for his company, not for his problems. By the time Sans regained his composure, the car had come to a stop. </p><p>“sorry,” Sans mumbled. </p><p>“we all have bad days,” Red murmured, popping open the door. They were in front of Sans’ apartment complex. Why were they here? They were supposed to go to Red’s place! No! This was what he was trying to avoid before he ruined the mood. “why don’t yer go rest up? ya need the break. i’ll have the money for tonight in yer account by mornin’ like usual.” </p><p>“i...but...i don’t need to rest. i’m fine.”</p><p>“look, i know yer real particular about yer schedule, but i would rather yer get some sleep than get my rocks off,” he peered at Sans with a ‘knowing’ look. “unless there is a reason yer would like to share as to why ya are so eager for the extra cash.” And it was then that Sans realized that he knew. Of course he knew. Red patronized the bar frequently and appeared to be on friendly terms with Grillby. They spent the whole night, neither of them saying a word about the damage or what inevitably happened to staff when a business had to shut down for weeks or even months for repairs. </p><p><i>Fuck you.</i> </p><p>That’s what he wanted to say. He wanted to scream it in his handsome, scarred face before he slammed the door shut in it. But Sans didn’t scream. He certainly didn’t shout slurs at his employers. Like with every miserable turn of events that week. Sans masked the ache with a smile—shaky and transparent, but a smile.</p><p>“we both know why i need the money,” he murmured. “don’t drag it out.”</p><p>“i wuz hopin’ yer would say somethin’ to me about it at dinner,” Red replied. “kinda disappointed yer don’t trust me enough to mention that yer out of work.” He reached into his jacked and pulled out his billfold. Fishing out a generous ‘tip’, he motioned to the open car door. “yer got options, dollface. think about it for me, yeah?” He tucked the money into the front pocket of Sans’ navy jacket and stole a quick, platonic kiss. “see yer next week assuming plans don’t...change.”</p><p>Sans exited the car and watched the sleek, expensive vehicle speed off into the night. He counted the bills. It was the amount he would usually get for a night in Red’s bed. For some reason, he felt dirty just looking at the money he didn’t really earn. Pity cash. A bribe at best. Sans headed up to his apartment, head throbbing from stress and too much wine, and collapsed in bed. </p><p>He didn’t sleep a wink.</p><p>It was with heavy, leaden limbs and strained smile that he picked up Papyrus from his friend’s house. Gerson, Undyne’s elderly tortoise monster guardian, eyed him with an arched brow, but said nothing about Sans’ obvious exhaustion. Probably because ready to fall flat on his face unconscious was his general state of existence these days. He politely asked Sans in for a cup of tea, as was routine, and like always, Sans turned him down. Papyrus thundered down the stairs soon after they exchanged pleasantries, and giddily threw himself at Sans, chattering about all the fun he and Undyne had baking cookies and other sleep over fun. </p><p>“AND THERE WERE NO FIRES STARTED THIS TIME!” the pre-teen announced with so much pride that Sans almost melted in brotherly adoration. “UNDYNE SAYS THE OLD WAY WAS MORE PASSIONATE, BUT MR. GERSON’S WAY ENDED IN EDIBLE SNACKS AND NO LOUD ALARMS.”</p><p>Sans chuckled and knuckled the top of his younger brother’s head, earning a shout to not noogie the skeleton. Given the way the beanpole was sprouting, Sans wouldn’t be able to reach the top of his skull soon. He already had to stretch up. Kid was all limbs and would be as tall as their dad at this rate. Good. One of them had to be able to reach the stuff on top shelves at the grocery store and Sans had topped off in the height department over a decade ago.</p><p>After thanking Gerson, he walked with Papyrus home, the other bouncing and skipping along in an eye-bleeding outfit that was a hazard of neon and patterns. An outfit that he chose himself that wasn’t from a secondhand store. His rainbow sneakers didn’t have worn out soles and had room to grow. He was happy and safe and so full of hope and promise. And he was smart. So damn smart. Sans might have abandoned his higher education to raise his kid brother, but he couldn’t find a single ounce of regret, not when the giddy bundle of joy before him could go on to carry on the family legacy. He’d change the world one day. Sans just knew it. </p><p>If he didn’t get stuck in the same ditch they were in before. He was a kind kid. Always trying to help Sans any way he could. If Sans struggled to make ends meet again, who knew what silly, idealistic things he would do. Like giving up his future to help pay the bills. </p><p>Sans leaned tiredly against the doorframe once they arrived home. </p><p>“YOU COMING INSIDE?” Papyrus asked, head cocked to the side as he pulled off his backpack. “YOU LOOK REALLY SLEEPY.”</p><p>“in a few minutes, paps. i, uh, gotta make a call first.”</p><p>“WORK STUFF?”</p><p>“...yeah. work stuff.”</p><p>Suitably disinterested in the topic, Papyrus flounced his way to his room, leaving Sans alone with his thoughts. A minute later, he pulled out his phone.</p><p>He’d already sold his body to the devil. Why not his soul? </p><p>It rang twice.</p><p>
  <i>“hey sweetheart, wasn’t expectin’ a call from yer. everythin’ okay? yer got yer money?”</i>
</p><p>Sans swallowed, “yeah. everything is dandy. i was, ah, calling about that offer you made. since, y’know, i don’t have a day job anymore...” A pause. No answer. He cleared his throat, “that is if you’re still interested.”</p><p><i>”i’m still very interested.”</i> Red purred. <i>”we should conduct this discussion in person, changes in a contract’s terms of service shouldn’t be hashed out over the phone. when are you next free?”</i></p><p>“monday.” Papyrus would be at school, and his part-time gig working the hot dog stand was only three days a week at best, and he wasn’t scheduled until Tuesday. </p><p>
  <i>“i’ll pencil it in. how does lunch sound? i can send a car to pick you up at noon.”</i>
</p><p>“perfect. there a dress code?”</p><p>
  <i>”wear whatever’s comfortable. nothin’ fancy.”</i>
</p><p>“cool. see you then?”</p><p>
  <i>”see you then. have a wonderful rest of your weekend, sans.”</i>
</p><p>As the call ended with a beep, Sans drew in a long, ragged breath. It was just business. Good business. Despite what Red thought he felt, love had nothing to do with this.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>-FIN?-</p><p><a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/catsitta">Check out my tumblr</a> for updates, art and raffles.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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